Tokyo and Nikko

Jay wasn't alone in his whinging, although his was the most persistent. By the time we got back to Tokyo, he was going on about how he wanted to be exported. I'm not going to tell you that it wasn't annoying, but it was annoying for reasons of tone rather than substance, whereas Susan complained less frequently, but the things she said drove me up the wall. In particular: "I just want things to be like they are at home--I want to be able to order a pizza to the room."

I just don't have time for that kind of thing. I, mean, I, too, was ready for things to be like they were at home--in particular, I was ready for toilets without control panels or burn warnings. I was ready to be able to read the ingredients on food I considered buying. I was ready to stop eating rice. And I was ready to be single again. But I knew that I'd go back to all that in a few days, as well as to a number of things I wasn't looking forward to, and in the meantime, I was going to make the most of things not being like they were at home.

Unexpectedly, I came out of my Japan rut when we got back to Tokyo. The craziness was actually invigorating. I wasn't asking the others to snap out of it, although I did need Jay to tone down the 'wah.' At the same time, I just didn't understand what the problem was. Travel is exhausting, and it's different: that's the point. You accept a certain amount of discomfort--physical, social, etc., as well as uncertainty--in exchange for new sights and experiences. My understanding of travel-related discomfort, and inconvenience, is different from theirs. I started traveling young, and broke; don't get me talking about discomfort.

***
On our last full day in Tokyo, R&S took off for Ghibli Museum, and Jay and I for Nikko. Our street--Sakura Dori, appropriately enough--was perpendicular to the road you cross to get to Yaesu North. I told you on my first or second post that the Tokyo subway system was a big clusterf*, and what more perfect example of that than Tokyo Station. So many platforms, trains, subway stops. We went into the JR office to make our reservations for Narita Express for the next day, as well as for the first train that we'd need to take to get to Nikko. We had twenty minutes or so, so we reconned the platform for Narita Express. It was good to know that it would be a bit of a trek from the Yaesu North station entrance.

A vending machine or two later, we took the Shinkansen to Utsunomiya, where we'd catch the Nikko Line, after stocking up on tea and KitKats, of course. On train, Jay inquired as to why I hadn't yet learned to read. Once we got to Nikko, I got a real coffee--"charcoal"--out of a vending machine. It didn't even come in a can.

Nikko doesn't want you to get lost--at least not in the lower part of town. There were maps everywhere, with "you are here" signs and all. On our way up the hill, we caught part of Nikko's spring festival, and stopped in Tourist Information, where they served us tea and sweets. We checked out the convenience store offerings--there weren't many, which, at that point, was a welcome change of scene. Then we (unenthusiastically) reached the area with all the temples and shrines. I'd really wanted to go to Nikko, and Jay was pretty sure he did, but, as we've established, we were tired and shrined out. We didn't really know what to expect. We bought a combination ticket to the area's main five temples and shrines and stuff, and walked through the first one.

Jay: I think I've had it.
A.: Me too.

Then, as so many times before, we got to where we were going, and our jaws dropped.

Jay: Wow.
A.: Wow.

The Toshogu Shrine complex was amazing. The whole thing--all its segments as they complemented each other.

I took some pictures. My batteries died; I replaced them. Soon, those, too died. Luckily, on the other side of the square, I found AAs at a kiosk. They served me the rest of the day. The only thing I missed out on being able to photograph was a group of sumo wrestlers making their way down from the shrine. We had just missed sumo season, which was a bummer. I was all over the sumo thing--I'd no reason to hope I wouldn't be the hairiest person in the country, but thanks to those guys, I certainly wasn't the fattest.

Nikko was amazing, and cold. Even colder because we had to take our shoes off to walk through some of the temples and shrines. We took the morning to check out the attractions on our combination ticket. Jason told me the strangest thing along the way.

Jay: Did I ever tell you that my mother asked me if I was inspired by Ellen?
A.: What?
Jay: After I came out, she asked if I'd come out because Ellen did it on national television.
A.: And it was the thing to do??
Jay: Right?
A.: That's more interesting, logically, than my mom's telling me I wear sunblock because it's politically correct.

After exploring the area--and freezing our toes off each time we had to remove our shoes to see a shrine--we found a soba place in town in which to have lunch and thaw out. Afterward, we headed for the Kanmangafuchi Abyss, not without making the requisite stop at 7-Eleven along the way. Jay got KitKats; I got a green tea Oreo bar. It was actually really tasty.

Jay thought the walk over to the Kanmangafuchi Abyss was a little "Deliverance," and said he'd be very upset if the next person we saw walking toward us was missing any teeth. Luckily, that was not the case, and I found Kanmagafuchi worth the trip.
We were, however, in vending machine withdrawal. We found one just past it, but it wasn't very good (we had standards), and the next one was out of hot drinks. We'd have to wait until we got back to town.

Back in town, the spring festival was in full swing. The floats were not as professional-looking as those in Takayama, but the atmosphere around town was really cool. The revelers pulled the floats down the streets, playing their instruments and chanting.
By late afternoon, we were ready to get back. The train deities were with us: we got back to the station just in time to catch the half-hourly train to Utsonomiya, and there just in time for the shinkansen to Tokyo Station.

Since it would be our last night in Tokyo, I was determined that we would have Japanese for dinner. This was complicated, because, since it was our last night in Tokyo, I wanted us to all have dinner together. We crossed into Tokyo Station and set out on our hunt. We hunted on various floors, and various passageways. We came close to giving up. Finally, we found a Japanese place--with menus in English, to boot! It was pretty crowded, but we got a table and ordered food. The waitress wanted to make sure I understood that the dish I'd ordered wasn't a set, i.e. didn't come with rice or anything. I replied that that was just fine.

After dinner, R&S went to a camera store they'd spotted at the other end of the station. Jay and I went hunting for dessert in Daimaru. We went a little nuts, but not so nuts that we didn't also stop in AM/PM on the way back. When else can you go a little nuts at the department and convenience stores, if not on your last night in Tokyo?

I was ready to crash almost as soon as we got back to the room. Jay's back hurt, and his GOZAIMAS!/SHIMASE! demon had returned for another episode of possession. I threatened to beat him. He told me he was just trying to simulate Gracie's presence for me. [Note: If Gracie ever starts yelling SHIMASE! GOZAIMAS!, I may well have to beat her].

Jay: Argh! My fat is flabby!
A.: Have another macaron.
Jay: Grrr.

***
That morning, we watched Japanese TV before meeting R&S for breakfast (or in my case, second breakfast--you didn't think I'd pass up my last department store bento?). One channel was showing a sort of Gaijin Real World, where they were having (Japanese-speaking) foreigners in Japan do all sorts of Japanese things (take an onsen; wield a samurai sword; etc.) and seeing how they fared.

We said goodbye to R&S, checked out, and headed to Roppongi. We got lost in Tokyo Station--actually, we unwittingly walked from Tokyo to Otemachi. We boarded the train and transferred, only to have to leave one subway system and board another one. Clusterf*, I tell you. Eventually, we made it to Mori Tower.

We'd kind of talked about going to Ueno, to the Museum of Western Art (which Jay affectionately dubbed the Museum of Western Crap--he meant no disrespect. It's supposed to be excellent). I don't remember what drove our change of heart--I wanted to see the Mori Art Museum. It was raining, so we didn't think we'd get much of a view out of Mori Tower, but it cleared up a bit, and the view came through for us.


Not only that, the museum--highest in the world--was really cool. I found Takamine Tadasu's photo essay, "Baby Insa-dong," poignant and thought-provoking, and loved--loved--Teruya Yuken's Notice-Forest series and Chim Pom's "Art is in the Party" (below)


The theme of the exhibit--and the quotes on its last wall, all about the nature of art, made me revisit the art-food analogy that hit me earlier in the trip. More beauty-food actually, but the essence of it was that there's a perfect portion, past which there are diminishing returns. Is there only so much beauty at a time you can take in? You have to disengage, digest it, before you can appreciate any more. And yet, just when we thought we were done with beauty, something else came along and blew our minds.

After the museum and the tower, we headed back to the Tokyo Station area and hit up the keitan-sushi place we'd had our eye on. It was everything we'd hoped for. We watched the chefs work and the sushi creations whiz by. It hit me that I was sad to be leaving. All the while, I was ready to come home.

We got our stuff, hauled it to the platform, and made our way to Narita. As the train approached the airport, we heard a recorded announcement: Narita Airport has two terminals--Terminal 1 and Terminal 2. The announcement urged us to exit at the proper terminal: if your flight departs from Terminal 1, exit at the Terminal 1 stop; if it departs from Terminal 2, exit at the Terminal 2 stop. Jay and I waited for them to maybe list which airlines used which terminals--we knew which terminal we needed, but we just thought if they're going to make a point of guiding you to the proper terminal, they may as well provide you with helpful information. This was not the case. It reminded me of a message that came with our last hotel keycard: If you lose your key, you will be locked out.

This, in turn, reminded me of David Sedaris' "When You Are Engulfed in Flames," which I have not read. But I heard him talk about it, and he said that the title is based on emergency exit instructions posted inside a hotel room in Japan. They came in steps: what to do when you smell smoke; what to do when you hear a fire alarm; and what to do when you are engulfed in flames.

Anyway, we exited at the proper terminal, checked in, and wandered around the airport in search of a vending machine. We didn't find one, but next to our gate was--wait for it--a convenience store. They had wasabi KitKats! I wanted to try some, but they only came in a pack of eight (which should make anyone suspicious). Jay got us some green tea ice cream. It was heavenly.

Once on the plane, Jay and I had the same thought: we couldn't wait for sentences to not end with "imasu." Disembarking in Chicago accomplished that for us, although it won't last long: I'll soon take up Rosetta Stone again, just because. Returning has been an adjustment; Japan is such a state of being as well as a physical location.